Not Tonight…But Maybe Tomorrow
by Aeriel Ravenna
Summary: “Not tonight, Pans. Not tonight or tomorrow or any godforsaken day when you’re you and not her.” Pansy’s tired of Draco’s misery.


**Not Tonight…But Maybe Tomorrow**

By

Aeriel Ravenna

Rating: **G**

Summary: "Not tonight, Pans. Not tonight or tomorrow or any godforsaken day when you're you and not _her_," he said. Pansy's tired of Draco's misery.

**A / N: Hey, this just kind of flowed out. It's based on a poem I wrote a bazillion years ago, only I changed the ending. I kind of like it… the scenes in **_italiacs _**are flashbacks, in case you didn't get that.**

Pansy weighed heavily in Draco's lap. Not in the physical sense, no, but … well, he wasn't about to dwell on it. Pansy kissed the corner of his mouth tenderly, but Draco turned his head away and would not look at her.

"Draco…please, you promised me a kiss tonight. My first kiss," Pansy's voice wavered as she spoke the words that she had spoken every day for forever, or so it seemed.

"Not tonight, Pans. Not tonight," he said woodenly, still not looking at her. Pansy sighed and rose.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts, then." She headed toward the door, looking back at him as she turned the doorknob.

Once she was out of earshot, it was Draco's turn to sigh. He ran a bony hand through his pale hair.

"Not tonight, Pans. Not tonight or tomorrow or any godforsaken day when you're you and not _her_," he said to the empty room.

"I'm sorry I can't love you, Pans," he said. "But I swore it and I can't go back on my word. I don't even want to go back on it. It's not my fault, blame my accursed heart."

The room seemed to agree.

-

"_Hermione?"_

"_Draco."_

"_I thought—"_

"_I know what you thought, Draco. But I never said that I would wait forever. I said that I was patient. This is your fault, you know. You just took too long,"_

"_But—I love you,"_

"_I know,"_

"_I'll—I'll always love you. You know that, don't you?"_

"_I know, Draco,"_

"_Good. Maybe, one day—"_

"_No, Draco. Don't get your hopes up when they'll just get crushed. You know it wouldn't have worked out anyway."_

-

"But I didn't know," Draco moaned into his hands. "I never knew. It was going to be alright—it was going to be perfect. How did she know it wasn't going to work out?"

His face was turning a light pink, as it always did when he got worked up. Hermione had always said it was cute. "Why, Hermione, why? Why don't you love me anymore?"

The room didn't seem to have an answer to this. It never did.

-

"_Hermione—we have to take a break. It's too dangerous—for both of us, you especially—to see each other during the war,"_

"_Why is it so dangerous for me? And we could work through it, couldn't we?"_

"_Hermione—your friends wouldn't take lightly to you dating me, but they wouldn't go have mad with rage and try to kill you—again—like my father. And Hermione, goddamnit, I don't want this to end any more than you do, but it's safer. Don't you want to be safe?"_

"_Not without you,"_

"_But that's the only way you will be safe, sweetling. I love you—god knows, I do—but I couldn't live with myself if you died because of me,"_

"_Draco, you're doing the wrong thing. But you mean well, I know. I'm patient. I can wait,"_

"_God, Hermione. I love you. I'll come back to you, I swear."_

"_Maybe."_

-

God, he had been a fool. If he hadn't said those stupid, stupid words, they could have been together now. She could have been dead, but he would have prevented that, wouldn't he? He was strong enough.

He just wasn't brave enough, or bright enough, or something.

"Why didn't I think? I knew it would take too long. I knew that time was too hard to overcome. You can't go through nine years of war and come out unchanged," he told the ever- attentive room.

"She probably saw too much. She couldn't have stayed with me, of course, so stoic…"

He regretted now that he hadn't taken a side. If he had, he would have chosen the Light side…his father's unnatural devotion to his Master had completely turned Draco off from the Dark Arts. He didn't want to be his father.

But once again, his stupidity had won over.

-

"_Draco? What side are you going to be on? I don't think I could face you on a battlefield,"_

"_You won't have to,"_

"_You mean—You're joining the Light side? Draco, that's brilliant! I can't wait to tell Gin—"_

"_Hermione, that's not what I meant. I'm not fighting, with either side. I'm staying neutral,"_

"_Draco! How_ could_ you! Are you just going to sit in your house and watch people dying, killing for their cause? I know you don't believe in what Voldemort's doing, Draco. It's as bad as joining him if you don't help!"_

"_Hermione, what the hell do you expect me to do? First of all, I doubt I would be welcomed in your little Order, or if I was they'd want me to spy, or something, and I couldn't do that. I've seen what it's done to Snape, Hermione. And I also can't fight for you. I can't kill people I've grown up with, don't you see?"_

"_But—you _hated_ them!"_

"_I know I did. That doesn't mean I can kill them."_

"_I can't believe you, Draco Malfoy!"_

-

It had been their first real fight as a couple, back in seventh year.

"Why didn't I just join the Order? I could have—I don't know, I could have just healed wounded people. God, what an _idiot_ I am," he muttered.

They tactfully had skirted the issue, then. They had evaded the issue until it was far too late and they were over, in a heart beat.

"Do you think that if we had made a decision, we could have stayed together? You do, don't you? I do too. I do, too."

This time, the walls seemed to sigh along with Draco.

-

"You're thinking about _her_, again, aren't you?" Pansy's voice sounded woodenly from the door the next day.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Pansy sighed. Oh, the things she did for that man…

"Look, could you go into Diagon Alley for me? I have a book on hold at the library."

"A book, Pans? What's it about?"

"If you must know, it's on how to break to your parents that you're not going to marry the man that you've been engaged to ever since a Mudblood Gryffindor broke his heart," she snapped. He looked down.

"Look, I'm sorry. Just, get me the book, okay?" Pansy sighed. Draco didn't reply, but got up, and, with a crack, Disapparated.

"You silly, silly man. The things I do for you," she told the ever-listening room.

She had had to beg. She had had to humble herself in front of Evil incarnated.

She had had to call on one Ginny Weasley.

-

"_What do you want to be once we leave school, Hermione?"_

"_I don't really know. I think I want a part-time job as a librarian, though,"_

"_Hermione!"_

"_What?"_

"_You're so much better than a librarian. You could be anything."_

"_I know. But I still want to start off as one, or have a part time job as one. The library's like a sanctuary for me."_

"_Oh, and I'm not?"_

"_Oh, be quiet, you silly, silly boy."_

-

"Draco!" Her cinnamon eyebrows rose at seeing him.

"Hermione," he said, breathless, eyes wide. She looked radiant, her curls draped about her neck and her lips the same plump red that he had remembered.

"I—well, this is awkward," she said, looking down.

"I haven't seen you in—"

"Three years," she inserted flatly. There was a silence, for a while.

"So…how's life?" The question seemed half-hearted even to his ears.

"Life is…life, plain and simple," she said and paused. "I heard you're engaged to Pansy Parkinson,"

"Yes," Draco replied, mouth going dry. He averted his eyes—they were searing from just watching her.

"Did you—"

"No, I didn't break my promise, if that's what you were going to ask. My mouth is yours and yours alone, always," his voice was flat, now.

"That isn't true."

"Yes, of course it is," Draco snapped, irritated. Couldn't she see? Couldn't she see that _he still loved her_?

"No, it isn't. When you—marry—her, you'll have to kiss her," Hermione said, swallowing heavily. Did she—did she care?

"Hermione," Draco said softly, hoping, yet dreading. "I have no intention of marrying Pansy. It's a cover."

"What?" Hermione's eyes flew up. Draco's heart lurched—they were the same thick-lashed, deep brown pools that he had delved into years past.

There was another pause, this time Hermione simply studying Draco. He nervously raked a hand through his hair under her scrutiny.

"You still love me, don't you?" asked Hermione softly. Draco looked down, very quickly. His eyes started to burn.

"Yes," he said, so softly that she couldn't hear him, only saw his lips form the word.

"You shouldn't," she said quietly. Her eyes never left his tall frame.

"Why not?" Draco asked firmly, quicksilver meeting chocolate. "Why shouldn't I? You're all I ever wanted, Hermione. Push me away all you want, but don't deny my feelings for you."

"I'm not pushing you away!" The words tore from her lips. Draco, stomach now filled with ice, simply raised a silver-blond brow. Hermione sighed. "Look, let's not do this. Things were so much easier before. We were supposed to never see each other again."

"Easier, Hermione? Who are you? The Hermione I know and love doesn't look for the easy way out. But, I guess you're right. I'm just getting my hopes up looking at you." He turned to go.

Three steps later, he was at the door of the library. He turned the doorknob, looked back, and smiled sadly. Then he stepped out the door and was gone.

Hermione buried her head in her arms.

-

"_Hermione?"_

"_Mmm?"_

"_I—I love you,"_

"_What!"_

"_Yu heard me. It's okay if you don't feel the same, Hermione. Just don't leave."_

"_No, Draco—I—I think I love you too."_

"_Good. Malfoys don't deal with rejection well."_

"_Shut up and kiss me, you prat."_

-

The library door slammed behind Hermione.

"Draco! Draco, wait!"

His blond head turned at the sound of his voice. His expression was like a knife in her throat; his eyes were more desolate than she had ever seen them and his mouth was twitching, as if he was trying not to frown or cry or something.

"What is it, Hermione? Come to toy with me again?" His tone was soft, not bitter as the statement required.

Hermione hesitated. What was she supposed to say? She didn't know if she still loved him, but god, did she need them. So she decided to follow her own, age-old advice.

She shut up and kissed him.

Hermione had always thought that their first kiss was her best kiss. This one blew _that _meager thing away.

When she voiced this opinion, Draco took her into his arms and smirked, just like old times.

"There's only one thing better than a make-up kiss," he growled into her ear.

"What's that?"

"The kiss directly _after_ the make-up kiss." He told her, as he captured her lips once more.

And, once more, he was right.

Hermione didn't know that Pansy would floo her in several hours time and threaten to curse her to hell and back, so help her god, if she broke Draco's heart again, only to follow it up with tearful congratulations.

She didn't know that the Prophet would have a field day with stories about the Slytherin Bachelor of the Year and the best friend of Harry Potter.

She didn't know that a enraged Ron would call her on what he insisted was a 'telly-foam' and demand to know what kind of spell she was under, or that Harry would simply remain silent, or that Ginny would pat Harry on the back while secretly exchanging winks with Hermione.

All she knew was that she was happy in his arms once again.


End file.
